Weakness
by KCousland
Summary: Morrigan always thought of love as a weakness, but it would seem the night of the Dark Ritual is a night of startling revelations for everyone.  Does not strictly follow canon.  Morrigan/Alistair.  Explicit.  One-shot written as a gift for Suilven.


_Author's notes: This story was written as a thank you gift for Suilven who organized the whole Secret Santa exchange over at CMDA. She loves Morrigan, so I thought I would offer her this alternate (non-canon) version of the Dark Ritual. It contains very mature, explicit stuff and is really, really NSFW._

_Suilven, again, thank you! We had so much fun with the exchange, and if this story makes you just a little bit happy, then mission accomplished!_

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><p>Love was foolish, 'twas but a weakness. Morrigan had learned this early on, and had witnessed countless occasions where her mother's lessons had been proven true. Feelings were but a tool, a mere mean to an end, and wily women knew how to use their assets to their advantage.<p>

It had been so easy to seduce the Warden, completely effortless, as long as she could ignore the emotions he sometimes stirred in her. He was chivalrous to a fault, the last of the noble Cousland, and he saw in her a damsel in distress, every one of her blunt protests only anchoring him deeper in his belief. Yes, she easily snared him in her net, believing that it would make her carefully constructed plan much easier to execute by ensuring his willingness to participate.

Right now, as he stared her down with a furious expression, she began to doubt that plan.

"Is that all I was to you, Morrigan?" he spat. "A gateway to an all-powerful old God child?"

"Of course not. I warned you from the beginning, Warden, not to let feelings of love cloud your judgment. 'Tis through no fault of mine that you despair so. I do not wish to see you dead, so I provide a solution. Is this not enough to show my concern for you?"

He glared at her with barely concealed contempt.

"No. It is not enough, not by a long shot. Damn it, Morrigan, how can you even stand there and say that?"

"Are you refusing my offer?"

"Damn right I'm refusing!"

"You are not thinking clearly. You are willing to die over this… lover's spat?"

"You know what, Morrigan? I don't need to explain myself to you. You said it yourself countless times. Love is foolish, and as such, it doesn't need to make sense. Just… just go. No, better yet, I'm leaving. Do what you want with yourself, I no longer care."

In the time it took her to blink, he was out the door, and she was alone.

What had just happened exactly? How could months of careful planning come crashing down like this? The unwanted feelings of rejection and regret that weighed heavily on her chest made it difficult to reason clearly, and she found with no small amount of anger that these feelings were not as easily dismissed as she thought they should be. She forced herself to breathe evenly, to keep the tears from falling. She was not weak, and there was no time tonight to wallow in self-pity. She had options, even if she hadn't cultivated them before, deeming them unnecessary, but Aedan wasn't the only young Grey Warden present.

The more she thought about it, the more the idea was appealing. Alistair was not too hard to look at. He could certainly do the deed just fine. He might even prove eager to do so, given his virginity and his possible impending death. Furthermore, there were no pesky complicated feelings to deal with there. She despised the man and would have no trouble putting the whole encounter behind her once it was over. Yes, the fool Templar would do just fine, if she could convince him properly.

The plan was already forming in her head as she walked to the future king's room. She could appeal to his ever-present sense of duty to his people, or his sense of honour to save Aedan. Maybe she could appeal to his pity, crying over lost love on his shoulder. The babbling fool was not hard to manipulate.

He was in the process of removing his armour, sitting on his bed to undo his greaves when she finally got to his room. He groaned when he saw her.

"Great. A day of walking in the scorching sun, then I had to hack my way through hordes of Darkspawn in the village, followed by some righteous preaching from Eamon, a promise of death, and then finally Morrigan in my bedroom. This has to go down in history as the best day ever."

Anger flared in her chest, burning away the last remnants of her pain. Yes, this would be much easier, without all those distracting feelings in the way.

"I know what Riordan told you, Alistair. I know that a Grey Warden has to die for the Archdemon to be killed. I come to tell you that it does not need to be so."

"Really?" he asked, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "I thought you'd be thrilled at my impending demise. You should go out there and find a nice clearing to dance around naked under the moon, you know, in celebration, and just leave me alone."

"Naked dancing can be part of the plan, if that is what you truly wish."

"Ha!" he exclaimed, before the words seemed to really register in his mind. "Wait, what?"

She sat by him on the bed as she explained her plan to him. She didn't tell him about the child, thinking that bit of honesty would probably be too much to handle for the poor sap. He was listening intently, serious, for once, his eyes boring into hers. When she was done explaining the ritual she fell silent, waiting for his questions, ready to answer anything he might throw at her. He was her last chance and she wasn't about to lose.

His first question, however, was not what she was expecting.

"Aedan left you?"

Well. Trust the stupid fool to twist the knife just so.

"Yes. He refused my offer."

"And if I refuse too, you're… going away."

"I'm leaving either way, Alistair. Whatever you decide, you will not have to suffer my presence any longer. You should think of your own survival instead."

He didn't answer, and his intense scrutiny was slowly putting her ill at ease.

"So? What say you?" she asked impatiently.

"Yes. I'll do it."

"Really?" She was baffled.

"Yes, really. Why? Do you want me to change my mind?"

His tone was teasing again, and she felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. This attitude was much more manageable.

"'Tis not what I meant. I am merely expressing my surprise that you're accepting so quickly. I thought you would need a lot more persuasion simply to see the soundness of my reasoning."

"Oh, I'm sure I would need more explanation if sound reason had anything to do with my decision."

"Why, then, might I ask, have you accepted so readily?"

"Well, for one, I like living. And also… I don't want to say. Can't my reasons be my own?"

"Suit yourself. I was merely curious. 'Tis of no importance to me, after all."

She got up to leave, turning to look at him in the doorway.

"Prepare yourself and meet me in my room when you're ready. And, Alistair…"

She gave him her best seductive smile.

"Believe me when I say you will not hate this quite so much as you believe."

~o0o~

_She's leaving. Aedan left her and she's leaving._

Yep, he had a very nice grasp on the situation.

On one hand, this was the news he had so eagerly been waiting for. On the other hand, it made things a lot more difficult to handle.

She told Aedan about the ritual and he left her, said he didn't care anymore. Alistair's heart was hammering in his chest at the implication that she was now free. Single, for all intents and purposes.

But she was leaving either way.

Should he tell her? Tell her how it broke his heart to see her with another? How every one of her carefully worded insults had hurt like a stab through the heart?

"_Why do you always go on about how stupid I am? I'm not stupid, am I?"_

She was with Aedan, his brother in the Wardens. And she hated him. What was he to do? His own hateful attitude had sprung up like a defense mechanism and now he was stuck with it.

He could see how he was everything she despised in life. An emotional sap. A Templar. A chivalrous, sensible man. Someone who believe in love.

He could also painfully see that she was everything he longed for. Powerful. Decisive. Free. She didn't care about what people think. She didn't let other people's expectations rule her own life. She took what she wanted. And now, she provided him with a way to save his own life and Aedan's.

"_Morrigan, I think I love you."_

Yeah, that would go well.

He couldn't tell her. All he could do was take this night and make the better of it. Hold her in his arms, kiss her lips, touch her skin, and pretend.

For one night, pretend she could love him back.

~o0o~

When she got out of the little adjacent washroom, he was already there, lying on her bed in only his smallclothes.

"Well, well, what have we here?" she said, dropping the nightshirt she was about to put on and walking up to him, hips swaying. "If I didn't know any better, Alistair, I'd say you're quite eager to ravish me."

"Morrigan, I… I have one condition." His tone was nervous, which was to be expected.

She narrowed her eyes at him, kneeling by his feet. He shuffled back a little.

"Tis a little late for negotiations, is it not?"

"Well, not a condition, really. More of a… request. If you'll indulge me."

She crawled atop him, bringing her face inches from his.

"What is it you want, then?"

Alistair visibly gulped.

"Could you… I mean, if you have to speak to me, could you just… be nice? Could you not insult me or be all snarky? Just for tonight, could you talk to me as if you… you like me?"

Unexpected. She thought he meant he wanted to try some unusual sexual position he had heard about from the elf. Well, she could certainly understand he didn't want his first time to be filled with harsh comments.

"Very well." That was a small price to pay, considering what he was giving her.

She leaned over him to blow out the candle, but he surprised her, wrapping his arms around her and spinning around, so she was on her back with him on top of her. His hand came up slowly, gently brushing strands of hair away from her face. His eyes held an intensity that made her avert her eyes, but she obligingly kept silent, even when his head bent towards her and she felt him inhale deeply into her hair, then exhale in a shaky sigh.

He dropped small kisses in her hair and across her cheek before claiming her mouth with his. He kissed her slowly, passionately, their lips parting slightly before reconnecting again and again, his tongue only lightly teasing her lips. Morrigan found herself arching her neck each time he withdrew, chasing his lips with her own. He wasn't the best kisser she had known, Aedan, for example, was an excellent kisser, not that she was comparing… but Alistair's kisses held so much intensity, a kind of… fervour that left her breathless.

"Alistair…" she said softly in a surprised gasp.

"Yes…" he whispered back, his eyes closed. He buried his face against her neck and she felt him tremble under her hands.

His mouth was hot, his lips lingering longingly against every inch of her skin he kissed. She wasn't prepared for this, wasn't ready for so much devoted attention from the Templar. She thought this would be a quick, soulless affair. It was rapidly becoming overwhelming, his mouth languorously clinging to her flesh, sliding against her throat, shoulders and breasts in a way that was far beyond tenderness, almost… worshipping. Her head was spinning, she was losing control and it was… blissful. Unacceptable.

She reached behind her back to unwrap her breast band herself, then shimmied out of her smallclothes, trying to get back to more pragmatic grounds. He pulled back a little, removing his own smallclothes, his eyes feasting on her naked body as his hand shakily reached out, and she found herself arching again into his caress when his fingers touched her breasts.

"There's no need for this, Alistair," she said, shocked at the softness in her own voice. ""Tis unnecessary to concern yourself with…"

"Hush…" he breathed, looking up to meet her gaze. "I want to. It's my first… the last… the only time… please."

The intensity of the plea in his eyes caught her unaware, and she could only nod in response, agreeing silently to let him set his own pace.

Her body was fast responding to his touch, every brush of his fingers or lips on her skin feeling like fire against her flesh, pleasure building up rapidly from within. Her breathing grew uneven, gasping. Her hands, unbidden, rose to cling to his back, feeling the shivers that were coursing through him, caressing his arms, his shoulders, his chest, sliding between them along his taut stomach to caress him lower in a sudden, hungry need to feel him, feel the strength of his arousal, of his undeniable desire for her. He moaned at the touch of her fingers on his lower belly, a deep, desperate sound, and he grabbed her hands in his to bring them back up on each side of her head, his fingers intertwined with hers.

"Don't touch me," he breathed, his voice hoarse. "I can't… I won't last if you touch me."

She looked up at his face, her eyes widening as the possible meaning behind his words made its way through her lust-filled thoughts. A small, nagging little idea was beginning to form, an impression that, maybe, this affair was not as devoid of pesky annoying emotions as she would have liked to believe.

"Do you want this to last, Alistair?"

He didn't answer, bending his head to kiss her flesh again.

~o0o~

_I want this to last forever. I want this night to never end. I wish tomorrow would never come._

She felt… amazing. He couldn't touch her enough. She was all soft curves and hard muscles, her skin warm and pliant under his fingers, the taste of her divine on his tongue.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulled him to her, and she twisted them, flipping him on his back. She rose above him, her eyes boring into his, searching, as her hand came down again to grab him, guide him. The mere sight of her, bending over him, beautiful in abandon, lips slightly parted, was almost enough to undo him.

Then he was inside her and she moaned in surprised pleasure, her head thrown back, and he was lost. His hands grabbed her hips as his back arched, uncontrollably pushing himself deep inside her as unimaginable pleasure set his body ablaze.

She moved above him, and with all his might he willed his body to wait. Just one more, before the inevitable end. Just one more look at her enraptured face, one more brush of his fingers on her skin, one more taste of her lips, one more grind of her hips against him.

_Hold on… just one more…_

~o0o~

He looked beautiful, lying beneath her, his head thrown back against the pillow, his eyes alternately closing tight and opening wide to stare back at her, his hands on her body feeling like they were everywhere at once. Incoherent, fervent murmurs were falling from his lips and although she couldn't hear them, the sight made her heart… ache.

He was so open, vulnerable, completely abandoning himself to her. She had always liked to be on top, to be in charge, but never had anyone surrendering so absolutely before. To see the kind of power she had over him was intoxicating and incredibly arousing, and she felt heat pooling between her legs, building up towards orgasm much faster than she would have thought possible.

"Alistair…"

His eyes closed as an expression almost bordering on pain twisted his features, his hands abandoning her body to grasp the sheets.

"One more…" he breathed. His hips snapped up against her, one, two times, and she was sent over the edge.

His eyes flew open when he felt her clench around him, briefly meeting hers before she closed them shut under the overwhelming ecstasy that wracked her body. He shuddered under her hands and she felt him explode inside her, a raucous cry erupting from his throat. She fell against his chest, her whole body trembling, and his arms came wrapping around her, his hips still thrusting jerkily, pushing shallowly inside her. He clung to her, his face buried in her neck, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she rested her forehead on his cheek, both their breathings slowly calming down.

She didn't exactly know how long she stayed there, listening to him breathe, feeling his heart slowing down. She knew she should have moved, rolled over, pushed him away, although she had no real desire to. As long as they stayed there, immobile, intertwined, she wouldn't have to start thinking again… think about what it all meant, what had unintentionally been revealed in that one look between them at the peak of ecstasy…

He was the first to move, his hand softly caressing her hair.

"Thank you."

She pushed herself up on her hands to look at him.

"No. Thank _you_."

He looked up at her, his eyebrows slightly raised, then tentatively arched his neck until his lips met hers for a slow, tender, lingering kiss.

_All right. One more. A kiss goodbye._

When their lips parted she forced her body to move, rolling off him to lie on her back. He tensed beside her.

"Well… I guess if would be better if… I mean… I guess I should go now…"

He moved to get up.

"Wait." Her hand reached out to catch his. "You can stay, if you like. I do not mind."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Why? Do you want me to change my mind?"

He flashed her a quick smile. "Oh. I see what you did there." His head fell back on the pillow and he rolled to his side facing her, his hand still clutching hers. "Good night, Morrigan." He closed his eyes, hugging her hand to his chest.

She stayed awake long after he fell asleep, half-sitting with her back against the headboard, propped up on pillows. This night was the consecration of everything she had been working for… and yet, victory was not on her mind as her eyes roamed over the body on the sleeping man in the bed with her.

Love. She knew enough of it to know what she had seen in his eyes in the second they met hers. Aedan loved her and because of it, he refused to complete the ritual with her. Alistair loved her and because of it, he had accepted.

If love was a weakness, it was a potent, powerful one.

As the hours crept by and night slowly gave way to morning, Morrigan found that she understood them. She understood them both, the way they felt, the reasons behind their opposite decisions. Both men made her feel loved. They both showed her, in very different ways, what love felt like, and now she found herself yearning for it. When she thought about leaving now, about being alone again, it hurt.

She resisted the impulse to reach out and run her fingers through Alistair's hair, to brush them off his face. Instead, she put her free hand protectively over her belly.

She understood love better, and maybe, just maybe, Flemeth had been wrong. That was perhaps the most terrifying thought of all.


End file.
